Amanda vs The Moon Savages
by dead.celebrity
Summary: Amanda P.Journalism student, cynical gothgirl, and general slacker finds her self on the fast track to psychotic SciFi adventure! A typical morning commute to schoo is interupted by a detour through the Twilight Zone, by way of Flash Gordons ID. One chapt


**The Amanda Pronic Fan Fiction Experience.**

**by _James Radcliff_**

**Amanda Vs. The Moon Savages**

**Chapter IV: A Nude Hope **

The policeman's service revolver slid easily back into the holster slung across her chest. His girth having been more than six times her own it was something of an impossibility to wear the belt the accepted way, so it became a sort of bandoleer. She had felt wretched pulling the belt and its most useful contents off the fat cops corpse, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Amanda stood up slowly and crept around the still twitching corpse of the "Moon-Savage" she just perforated. She took three steps before it occurred to her that a .44 magnum isn't exactly a subtle or quiet weapon, so rather than wasting time sneaking she decided to walk quickly and reload.

Nobody, save perhaps the most psychotic of MUFON members, wakes up in the morning with a burning desire to be abducted by aliens. Amanda Pronic was certainly not one of that crazed and unaccustomed to bathing minority. Her first waking thoughts that morning had been the usual fare, must urinate, must shower, must eat, must not forget school-related-items, must not miss the god-forsaken train again. This was not a girl whose thoughts strayed toward the fantastic at 7:45am, this was a girl whom expended no small effort to not spit on most people she ran into at that hour.

Our heroine stood at the train stop, having just missed the one she needed to only be 10 or so minutes late for class, shivering and being bitter as usual. Her boyfriend didn't exactly approve of smoking (though he made no demands upon her personal habits, wonderful boy that he is) so her athletic frame shivered a tiny bit more from lack of morning nicotine. She cursed the all-to predictable situation, cursed not having a smoke, cursed not wearing 3 more layers of clothing, and cursed in general.

Her boots made a soft clicking sound on the metal floor of the corridor. Amanda noted that the floors and walls were a sort of worn silver color, while her boots and new outfit were 'gunmetal' and not all that different. Though similar colors however, her clothing wasn't exactly designed to provide obfuscation in this environment. She felt like some sort of 60's go-go dancer catering to gentleman with an astronaut fetish. Flared skirt that barely made it halfway down the thigh, midriff-exposing top with a generous neckline, sleeves down to the elbows and matching gloves. All in all, a bit tacky she thought. The boots were a different story altogether... two inch heels were both decorative and practical, buckles all the way to the knees, and two-one inch long spikes angled up slightly on the toes.

Mmmhhhmmm.

The train was late. Ten minutes late. That was it. No class today. Amanda resolved to call her boy and have him meet her at her place later for dinner, conversation, and "adult hugs". She pulled out her cell phone as she turned and started up "Mount Beagle". Her walk was halted by the loud hissing that her phone emitted upon its attempt to send. "Odd." she thought, "Perhaps my phone is possessed.". She tucked it away in her messenger bag and stepped forward...

She stood and stared at the boots on her feet, turning her right foot gingerly inward as if to admire the shoe from all angles. Her right thumb slowly, and with as little noise and movement as possible, slid back the hammer on the .44. The "Moon-Savage" or whatever it is, was watching from the exposed beams in the ceiling. These things were stronger, faster, and tougher than humans to be sure, but not smarter from the looks of this one. They went about naked but had no visible genitals, their bodies were light pink in color and had hair in all the same places a man does.. only more so. The hair was thick, shaggy, and reeked of filth. She had seen it on approach, its face hidden behind a support beam. Best guess was it was reasoning like a child does, if it can't see you then you can't see it. It shifted its considerable weight backwards preparing to jump, Amanda tightened her grip on the gun.

If not for 7-11 coffee and weeks of training at taxpayer expense Amanda surely would be dead. The policeman swerved expertly away from the apparently oblivious little goth girl standing on the wrong side of the street. Amanda screamed and jerked away from the car as a reaction, but a far too late one. The squad car slid on the ice, brakes locking up, and swerved into a telephone pole making a sound similar to the one made when you crumple an empty aluminum can between your hand and your forehead. She dropped her backpack and bag and ran to the car to see if she could help the poor man. The scene was a bit more than she was prepared for. The airbags had not deployed on impact and the man had neglected to wear his seat belt. Blood and coffee covered the shattered remains of the dashboard and window, the officer slumped over the wheel the way dead bodies on TV don't. She clasped her hands to her mouth and breathed deeply, she knew it was pointless to check for a pulse, the poor man was dead.

A Winchester 'Silver Tip' hollow point erupted from the smooth, black barrel of the revolver with a satisfying thunder. The round ripped into the creatures left side and sprayed sickly brown gore all over the smooth metal wall behind it. Amanda had managed to jump backwards as the thing attempted to lunge down upon her. It turned, she fired, and it stumbled backwards. Not dead, sadly, but hurt. It paused for a moment and Amanda drew back the hammer to let the thing know she meant business. Not that this savage thing had ever seen a revolver before, but she did it because it boosted her confidence in a very cheesy Clint Eastwood sort of way. The savage roared at her with a mouth full of jagged teeth and breath smelling of rotten meat, and again lunged. Amanda stepped forward this time with the revolver in her right hand, outstretched, and pulled the trigger.

"Get a grip. Get it together dammit." was the only thought rolling around in her head as she tried to force herself to touch the cop, to see if he was dead in fact. Her phone was dead, his radio was nothing but static, so she had to run for help... That meant at least seeing if he was dead or not. Amanda had never enjoyed the sight of anyones blood save her own, and even then only under certain controlled circumstances. She reasoned that the man might indeed be alive, and he needed help, or at least comfort, so with a gasp she steeled herself and reached for the mans shoulder. She grabbed it timidly and then forced her grip firmer. She opened her mouth to speak and was suddenly very, very warm.

The savage thing managed to plow through a second direct hit to the chest. This time right in dead center mass, right where the things sternum should be. It howled with pain and rage as it tackled Amanda to the ground, the revolver spinning across the smooth metal floor. She held its jaw upwards, trying to keep its teeth and breath as far away from her face as possible. No question now on its intentions, its plan was to eat her. The savages clawed hands gripped her shoulders and drew blood, not much, just enough to make sure the pain was noticed. Slowly but steadily its head approached hers, forcing past her defenses, snarling and trying to bite franticly. With only a few moments before the thing would surely be feasting on all of her best facial features she had a wonderful idea, everything is better with spices.

Getting torn apart at the atomic level and transferred by some sort of energy beam to an alien facility beneath the surface of the Moon would have been on not one list compiled by Amanda with the heading "What is going to happen today.". Neither for that matter would watching a cop die in a freak car accident while attempting to skip school, so it was already a day of unexpected events. The sensation of, well, whatever it was that had exactly happened to her was unlike anything else really. Unless its happened to you there isn't a good frame of reference, so we'll go with Amanda's reaction. Vomiting. Lots of vomiting. The remnants of wheat toast and coffee now decorated what looked like the inside of a giant light bulb. Amanda had little inclination to wonder about her surroundings as everything inside of her tried desperately to get out.

The savage bit down quickly and hard upon the 12 ounce cannister of pepper spray, the resulting explosion in its maw drove it backwards unto its back. It writhed on the floor, gasping, coughing, and making desperate and confused sounds while it dripped saliva with more enthusiasm than before. Amanda calmly adjusted her skirt, ignored her wounds, and reached for the gun. The creature attempted to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood and drool, but it made it only a few feet. She stood calmly, the gun less than 10 feet from the base of the things skull. She thought about mercy. She thought about compassion. She thought about how it tried to eat her a moment ago. She pulled the trigger.

Amanda stood there for a moment and thought to herself "In space, everything is cold.".

Covered in vomit, sweat, and the sweet Baby Jesus only knows what else she climbed out of the light bulb rather slowly. On shaky legs she moved, slowly, across the dull finished metal floor. She felt light, very light, though not 'light-headed'. Perhaps a hallucination of some kind, shock maybe, who knows? She wasn't even sure what had happened or where she was. Perhaps this whole situation was a hallucination? Perhaps she was crazy after all, and she had finally snapped. Finally taken that last step into insanity that everyone from High School, her family, and the psyche ward assumed was merely a matter of time. Maybe. That might explain this science-fiction version of a hospital, or the strange lights and sensations of warmth and whatever else that was, or the dead cop in a giant light bulb over there.

"Oh, shit."

Brass clanging down on some alien metal made a familiar sound as she emptied the revolvers chamber of spent cartridges. She took stock of her remaining ammunition. Twelve. Counting these, twelve hollow point .44 rounds left. That would not do, not at all. She had one 8 ounce cannister of pepper spray left, one collapsible baton, one pair of handcuffs with keys, one Zippo lighter but no smokes (the cops pack was empty), one 'suspect questioning aide' Maglight flashlight, and one rather useless radio. She looked about the hallway, one direction stretched back the way she came, one went forward. The way ahead was not full of dead Moon Savages. She sighed, slammed the cylinder back into the revolver dramatically, and walked intently away from where she came from.

She quietly and rather sarcastically muttered to herself "Oh yeah, time to conquer the fucking Moon.".

A screen lit up on a wall panel before her, nearly sending her into terrified fits. It was sudden, and lit the room with an eerie blue glow. Her eyes adjusted after a moment and she stood there staring at an image of the Earth. A sort of red arrow pointed to the planet, and she assumed it was a very general sort of 'You Are Here' sign, as it pointed at Portugal. A thin red line with an arrow pointing out then slowly moved from Earth to... the Moon. The arrow reappeared, pointing at... some part of the Moon. Lunar geography wasn't a speciality of hers, so she had no clue as to where. She assumed she must be below the surface as there were no windows in the room and she was pretty sure Neil Armstrong would have mentioned this. Stepping in the direction of the screen slowly the image changed. It was a white person shape, like the kind on a bathroom door, only there were brown spots all over it. It walked like a gingerbread man should into the light bulb aparatus and there was a flash, then the brown spots were gone and it waved. Maybe these things are Lunar showers of some sort.

After walking some distance without incident Amanda found a room off to the left side of the hallway. The door was ajar and the room was unlit. She held the flashlight with her left hand, gun with the right, both pointed forward and stepped nervously through the door. The lights beam seemed almost solid in the total darkness, and it illuminated rows and rows of shelves toppled to the floor. Walls were scratched, things with unknown functions lay ruined all over the room, covered in foul-smelling substances she assumed to be excrement. It seemed that the savages didn't like this room or its contents. She held her breath and decided that meant she should find out why, since they had done little to endure themselves to her. It didn't take long to discover why. On one of the few still standing shelves she discovered something resembling a Nintendo Zapper, with the addition of a scope and some sort of gadget attatched to the underside of the barrel. Its function was obvious, what with the trigger and all. She found herself a nice, neat little ray gun.

The clear hatch to the "light bulb" slid into place with one smooth motion. Amanda sat there, covered in filth, and ran over the various scenarios in her head. This might be a trap. It might just beam her back home... home... where she could spend three or four days getting wasted and convince herself this whole episode was one grandiose hallucination. This could be, as she thought was advertised, some kind of "Moon Man" shower-thing. A humming sound accompanied a slow illumination of the light bulb as Amanda's skin began to tingle, and not in the special way.

Air smelled of molten metal, burned paper, and ozone as Amanda drew the ray gun slowly back. She muttered something incomprehensible and smiled a rather sly grin. It worked. It was a God-Damned ray gun. Right out of Buck Fucking Rodgers. Hell yes she thought, about damn time. A quick examination of the device revealed a handy digital display showing exactly how much, um, whatever it was that powered it that was left. The gauge looked like the sort found on batteries, with no writing. Batteries were easy to identify as they bore the same markings. Neither displayed any sort of written language at all, just like the rest of this place. This however was not her chief concern and fell someplace down the 'Mysteries to Solve' ladder behind 'Get Home', 'Why am I here?', and 'Where the fuck is the little girls room?'. Still, all of those concerns melted away for a moment. She had a friggin' ray gun.

Burning when you urinate is a terrible feeling indeed. Amanda equated this sensation to a rough approximation of that most vile experience. The light, a different shade of really fucking bright white than the bulb made before, was blinding, the sound oppressively loud, and the burning... was terrible. It was over after only a moment and quickly the feeling subsided, her vision cleared, and she was left only with a mild ringing of the ears and the most clean feeling she could ever claim to remember. She felt fresh, pure, cool, and naked. "Oh Hell."

Amanda emerged from the room, armed with her newly found space-age weaponry. A certain amount of confidence can be gained when one has a .44 magnum as a "hold out" pistol, with your primary method of offense/defense being a ray gun. It had nearly vaporized totally the shelving unit she fired it at, as well as the everything else the beam had struck. Except the wall. Amanda in her haste and slight disbelief at what she found did not stop to consider the ramifications of a laser weapon cutting a hole in the wall of wherever she was. The lack of atmosphere on the Moon, or "atmo" as she thought of it, a shorthand version stuck in her head thanks to her boyfriends fondness for science-fiction space-westerns, would have made her plans to keep living difficult. She went over in her mind all the various concerns a sensible girl would have when trapped in space. Concerns such as the harsh, unforgiving vacuum of space. Yes, that was a thing to remember in the future.

Suddenly, something caught her eye up ahead. On the right hand side of the corridor was a set of doors. She quickened her pace and kept the ray gun at the ready. Slowly but surely two little gingerbread shaped figures came into view, one on each door. One had a little skirt...

The door to the light bulb slid open and Amanda climbed back out, naked. She was a little put off by the possibility of this being first contact with an alien civilization and their exposure to the human race being a fat, dead, cop and a naked young girl. A very peculiar first impression, but she was thankful to have had the foresight to shower and shave before leaving the house. The room was not especially cold, but it was chilly enough to make it mildly uncomfortable. She stood around for a few seconds before a cabinet built nearly seamlessly into the wall opened up with a rack of women's clothing. All the outfits were the same, only different sizes denoted by spheres on the tags of varying sizes. There were only three sizes but the fabric seemed a bit stretchy and clung to the body in a very flattering manner. Finally she thought, a decent fitting outfit and I have to look like Flash Gordons favorite prostitute.

When you spend any amount of time in a situation where you cannot go to the bathroom, but you must, you understand the simplemindedness that comes with a need to evacuate. Amanda had never been so overjoyed to see a bathroom as she was right then. The cold, metal toilet seat was like a miracle. She sat there for a moment and sighed a very pleased sigh. After about 45 seconds it occurred to her that above the doors had been a sign. It had three lines of characters, the bottom which read in English "Lavatory". English. English English. The other two she was unsure of but she thought more about as she went about 'the business' and she was pretty sure she had seen them before. They were human languages. Human. From Earth. She wasn't sure if she should be happy, or more frightened than she was already.

"Are you finished in there, comrade?"

Amanda sat in shock, ray gun pointed at the door to the stall, as it opened(which had not taken the time to latch, seeing no real point and being in a hurry) to reveal a rather attractive blond girl in a red space suit pointing a gun right back.

"I am needing to toilet like you did."

Next time...

**Chapter V: Two girls, a gun, and a Space Station.**

_Will Amanda be killed and eaten by the desperate Moon Savages? _

_Will she defeat the surely creatures? _

_Will she ever get home?_

_...and will she make it with the hot cosmonaut? _

_Stay tuned!_


End file.
